Chicken Races
by eikothewerewolf
Summary: Malfoy and friends behead some chickens to see which one runs around longest. kind of twisted Short Story.


**Chicken races**

**_Rating:_** PG

_**Genre:**_ Comedy/ Twisted

_**Setting:**_ A Farm

_**Main characters: **_Malfoy

_**Note from the authoress:**_ I'm not entirely sure why I wrote this. it's a lot shorter than my usual short stories, but it was just a silly little idea. Ah well, it amused me. If your as twisted as me, hopefully you will to

_**Part 1**_

Note: no chickens were harmed in the making of this story

Malfoy gazed out through a window, clearly bored. He watched in some amusement as a small tabby cat pounced on a rooster at least three times its size. A faint chuckle passed his lips as the rooster, plainly irritated by the cat's arrogance, turned and pecked it sharply on the head. The cat screeched and fled to the other side of the yard. He was staying at a farm while his parents were away. It belonged to a relative of Crabbe. Because of this, Crabbe and Goyle were also staying at the farm. However, he had been forbidden to venture out of the farmhouse. And there was not much to do in this place.

It had all started a few days ago. Malfoy had been over by the chicken coops, dragging a small amount of amusement from teasing the chickens, pretending to put food down and watching them peck the ground expectantly. But as far as entertainment went, it was not incredibly exciting. Then he had heard a traumatised squawking coming from the nearby shed. Curious, he had ventured inside, to see one of the farm hands holding down a chicken with his left hand, and lining up a cleaver with his right. Malfoy was vaguely interested.

"What's the Chicken done?" he had queried. This remark had made the farm hand jump, and a malicious gleam flickered in Malfoy's eyes as the cleaver dropped into the woodwork, dangerously close to the farm hands hand. The farm hand stepped back in shock, mopping his brow with his right hand. He still held the chicken by its neck.

"Geez kid, you nearly gave me a heart attack!" Malfoy gave an evil smile.

"So are you gonna tell me why your killing the chicken?" the farm hand eyed Malfoy somewhat suspiciously.

"Listen kid, the hen has stopped laying eggs, she's no use anymore. If it bothers you then don't watch." He turned back to the chicken, placing it on the chopping block again. He muttered to himself, pulling the cleaver out of the woodwork. Malfoy herd him cursing as he lined the sharp edge of the cleaver up with the chickens neck. He watched with interest as the farm hand brought down the cleaver sharply, slicing through the chickens head. He removed his hand and started to wipe the blood off of the cleaver. Malfoy gasped suddenly and pointed to the chicken. It was running round on the floor.

"Is that meant to happen?" He watched the chicken running in circles, as the farm hand turned to look at what Malfoy was pointing at. He seemed incredibly laid back about a headless chicken running around on the floor. He shrugged.

"Yeah, they always do that. Probably something to do with their nervous systems." A smile crept over Malfoy's face. He was starting to see a way to entertain himself.

Later that same day he tracked down Crabbe and Goyle. Dragging them away from anyone who might listen in, he outlined a plan to them. Upon hearing the plan they started to laugh stupidly. Malfoy rolled his eyes, and told them to meet him at the barn that night. The trio split, all three thinking in amusement about that night.

It was about eleven at night when the boys snuck out of the farmhouse, heading for the chicken coop. Malfoy quickly caught three chickens and took them to the barn, where Crabbe and Goyle were waiting. He handed a chicken to each of the others, and spoke in a whisper.

"Ok, now, got the cleavers ready? When I say go, chop the head off of your chicken, and we'll see which one runs around the longest!" Crabbe and Goyle laughed stupidly at the idea, and held their cleavers over the chickens. Malfoy swore slightly as he heard the racket the chickens were making. He looked at Crabbe and Goyle, noting that they had their cleavers ready. He shouted "Go" and all three brought down their cleavers, chopping the chickens heads off. They stepped back and watched as the headless chickens ran around the barn. Crabbe's fell down first, followed closely by Goyle's, making Malfoy's chicken the winner. He punched the air happily, shouting yes. He froze when he heard a voice from behind him.

"So, what's all this about." Malfoy turned slowly to face the farmer. He looked completely mad, and before Malfoy could think up an excuse spoke again. "You think you can just chop the heads off my chickens for your own amusement, your completely wrong!" The farmer shouted. He continued to shout angrily at them for about an hour, before telling them they were confined to the farmhouse until their parents returned.

Malfoy gave a sigh. It had been fun chopping the chickens heads off like that. He supposed he was lucky that his parents were not going to find out. He tapped a pencil lazily on the windowsill, before turning back into the room, searching for some way to amuse himself.

THE END


End file.
